Romance Island eBook

“I’ve had, I’m almost certain, the
pleasure of seeing you before,” imparted Amory
pleasantly, adjusting his pince-nez and looking down
at her. She was so enchantingly tiny and he was
such a giant.

“In New York?” demanded Antoinette.

“No,” said Amory, “no. Do desert
island princesses get to New York occasionally, then?
No, I think I saw you in Yaque. Yesterday.
In a silver automobile. Did I?”

Antoinette dimpled.

“We frightened them all to death,” she
recalled. “Did we frighten you?”

“So much,” admitted Amory, “that
I took refuge up here.”

“Where were you?” Antoinette asked curiously.
Really, he was very amusing—­this big courtly
creature. How agreeable of Olivia to stay away.

“Ah, tell me how you got here,” she impetuously
begged. “Desert island people don’t
see people from New York every day.”

“Well then, O Pitiful Princess,” said
the Shade from Sidon, “it was like this—­”

It was easy enough to fleet the time carelessly, and
assuredly that high moon-lit world was meant to be
no less merry than the golden. Whoever has chanced
to meet a delightful companion on some silver veranda
up in the welkin knows this perfectly well; and whoever
has not is a dull creature. But there are delightful
folk who are wont to suspect the dullest of harbouring
some sweet secret, some sense of “those sights
which alone (says the nameless Greek) make life worth
enduring,” and this was akin to such a sight.

After a time, at Antoinette’s conscientious
suggestion, they strolled the way that St. George
had taken. And to Olivia and the missing adventurer
over by the parapet came Amory’s soft query:

“St George, may I express a friendly concern?”

“Ah, come here, Toby,” commanded St. George
happily, “her Highness and I have been discussing
matters of state.”

“Antoinette!” cried Olivia in amazement.
From time immemorial royalty has perpetually been
surprised by the behaviour of its ladies-in-waiting.

“I’ve been remembering a verse,”
said Amory when he had been presented to Olivia, “may
I say it? It goes:

“’I’ll
speak a story to you,
Now listen while I try:
I met a Queen, and she kept house
A-sitting in the sky.’”

“Come in and say it to my aunt,” Olivia
applauded. “Aunt Dora is dying of ennui
up here.”

They crossed the terrace in the hush of the tropic
night. Through the fairy black and silver the
four figures moved, and it was as if the king’s
palace—­that sky thing, with ramparts of
air—­had at length found expression and
knew a way to answer the ancient glamourie of the
moon.

CHAPTER XV

A VIGIL

Upon Mrs. Hastings and Mr. Augustus Frothingham, drowsing
over the pocket chess-board, the sound of footsteps
and men’s voices in the corridor acted with
electrical effect. Then the door was opened and
behind Olivia and Antoinette appeared the two visitors
who seemed to have fallen from the neighbouring heavens.
The two chess-pretenders looked up aghast. If
there were a place in the world where chaperonage
might be relaxed the uninformed observer would say
that it would be the top of Mount Khalak.